


Wear a smile on my face but there's a demon inside

by PrimalScream



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Fingering, Flint never cuts his hair...hallelujah, Hair Washing, M/M, Not very much plot, Rimming, Strong Language, a mention of doing miranda wrong in more ways than one, a weeeeee bit of pining, an ounce of face fucking, canonish, john can't hold his wine or maybe he just has shitty balance, pirates who don't share their candy booty, scalp massaging, silver doesn't like sleeping alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-03 03:43:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16318478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrimalScream/pseuds/PrimalScream
Summary: What if John never lied? What if, when he awoke after having is leg amputated, he came clean about the gold? What if James never cut his hair?These questions and more answered on the next episode of SOAP.





	Wear a smile on my face but there's a demon inside

Soft knocking at his door breaks the silence he’s surrounded himself with, and while he’s not expecting anyone, he welcomes the distraction. His thoughts of late have turned too far inward, and examining those feelings is better left alone. When he swings the door open the one person he expects is staring back at him. He looks haggard and worn, dark circles under his eyes, his mouth turned down, a crease in his brow. His body sags as if his spine is shrinking and has become too frail to hold him up properly.

James opens the door wide, lets John shuffle in, watches his uneven gait as he crosses to the window seat. James waits expectantly next to his desk as John settles himself. He can’t help but notice the way John rubs his thigh just above the knee of his left leg, a steady stroke of his hand, a little dig with the heel like he’s trying to ease the muscle.The physical toll the loss of his limb must be taking on his body has to be exhausting, to say nothing of what must be happening in his mind. James wishes there were something he could do to ease John’s suffering, but even as he thinks it, he knows that John would never accept it, he’d see it as pity.

“I have no official reason for being here.” John stares at the floor, his mouth pulled into a thin line, his hair obscuring most of his face.

James relaxes and takes a seat, turns to face John, wants him to be at ease. “Just a friendly chat then?”

He sees John take a breath, watches his lips press together and then purse, the lower half of his face contorting, it's a tic that James has come to know well. A tell that lets James know that John’s thoughts aren’t particularly happy.

“I’m not sleeping well.” The words seem almost forced out as if he has to get them into the open immediately or risk never saying them all, “Even in a room full of our men, men who would charge full speed ahead at any threat to me, I find that I can’t sleep. After,” waving his hand in the direction of his leg, he finally lifts his head, “I only slept well in here, but perhaps that was the laudanum I was being pumped full of and not the implication of this cabin.” The corner of John’s mouth lifts in a ghost of a smile.

“I could continue to drug you if you’d like.” James stretches his legs out in front of him, folds his hands over his stomach, settling in, trying to put his quartermaster at ease.

John smiles fully, even white teeth on display, James feels his breath stutter.

“I’d rather you didn’t if it's all the same.” Within seconds the easy grin turns brittle, the corners of his mouth turning down, “But I was hoping I could rest here for a bit. I think maybe it’s the closed door that helps.” He won’t meet James’s eyes as he asks, instead staring at the door and it’s solid steel bolt.

Nodding James says, “Of course. I have a few logs to finish. Stay as long as you like.”

John says nothing more, a single nod of his head is all James gets before he settles back against the cushions. James watches him pull up his pant leg and then reach for the fastenings of the boot, his hands pause and James looks to his face. James realizes John is waiting for him to turn around, “Sorry, I’ll just…” James trails off as he turns his chair back to his desk. James hears the boot drop to the floor. He can’t help but wish he could ease John’s mind, or dull the pain, the way John had done for him months ago.

After Charlestown, once John had awoken, and he’d been made aware of his new station, he had haltingly relayed the story of selling the whereabouts of the gold. At first James had been furious, rage clouding his vision. And then impressed and finally just plain thankful that John had seen fit to trust him, to tell him the truth instead of continuing the charade.

They’d begun a tentative friendship, John almost always at his elbow learning the finer points of sailing. John’s constant presence kept him from sinking into the despair that nearly overwhelmed him at the loss of Miranda. John’s watchful and concerned eye had allowed James to be open about Miranda and eventually Thomas. James’s ability to unburden himself, to share his grief and memories had lifted pounds from his shoulders. It had allowed him to remember the good, instead of only pain at their loss. James wishes he could repay some of that now, but he knows better than to push. John will let him in when he’s ready.

Sinking into the paperwork in front of him, James almost forgets John is there until he hears a small whimpering moan. Immediately alert James debates turning around. He can hear John moving on the window seat but then he goes still again and James relaxes once more.

James is started by John’s sudden, sharp voice, “No, stop.” John begs in his sleep. James is out of his chair before he realizes what he’s doing. He turns in just enough time to see John thrashing, his arms swinging, his legs kicking and James realizes he’s going to hurt himself if he accidentally bashes his left leg against the wood of the window seat. Rushing forward James kneels in front of him and tries to pin John’s legs down while dodging his fists.

James speaks to him firmly, calmly. “John, you’re dreaming, you need to wake up. John wake up.”

His eyes, when they spring open, are wild and unseeing, fear lining his features, his breath wheezing out, his arms swatting at James, “John, John, it’s me, you’re safe.” Recognition finally blooms in John’s eyes and he slumps back against the side of the seat as lucidity returns, the palms of his hands dig into his eyes, “Goddamn it.”

James waits until John’s breath evens out before asking, “Is that why you don’t want to sleep down with the men?” John says nothing, just swallows thickly, eyes staring into the inky blackness outside the window. John’s lack of an response is the only answer he needs, “How often are you having them?”

“Every time I sleep.” John’s voice cracks and James understands what that admission cost him, shocked that it's taken this long for John to break, “Why didn’t you come before now?”

John’s head snaps around, his face hard, “So I could look weak to you? So I could give you a reason to remove me from your crew? I don’t think so.”

James feels his head tilt, his indignation second to his curiosity, “Why now then?”

“The lack of sleep is starting to,” John shakes his head, takes a deep breath, “I’m not thinking clearly.”

James thinks back to their earlier conversation, confusion coloring his tone, “What exactly is the implication of this cabin?”

John half laughs, “I watched you murder a man with your bare hands. As terrifying as that image may be, it’s also fairly comforting to someone in my current position.”

James frowns, “And what position is that?”

John shifts, his expression going blank, “A cripple you’re responsible for, one unable to defend himself.”

James feels his jaw clench. He hates the way John refers to himself, as if he’s somehow less valuable to James, as he currently is. While that might be true of some Captains, John’s brain is as valuable, if not more so, to him than any appendage.

“I'm only going to say this one time, so you'll do well to listen. Had I any doubt about your ability to be quartermaster to this crew, I wouldn't have backed the decision. I do not find you weak." James’s gaze doesn't waiver, his eyes boring into John, forcing John to see the truth of his words. “That said, I do need you at full strength. If the only place you can rest is within this cabin, then I expect you here each evening.”

John stares at him, and James can see him weighing the option of objecting, wisely he just nods once and settles back down. As far as James knows he sleeps the night through without another nightmare.

The next morning John looks and seems more refreshed than when he’d appeared and James can’t help but feel a bit prideful for having provided something for John, for having helped him even a little. James is all too aware that the soft way he thinks and feels about John runs much deeper than simple friendship, but he refuses to allow himself to dwell. Before John can pull his coat on James speaks up, “I could teach you.”

"Teach me what?"

"Sword work, enough that you could defend yourself. The surroundings aren't ideal, but I could give you the basics."

A small smile breaks over John's face, "Alright."

***

A week later James summons John to his cabin, He's pushed all the furniture to one side leaving a large open space across the middle of the cabin. Once John is inside, James motions to the crutch leaning against the wall, "You'll be able move more stably with that." This time when John removes the peg he doesn't wait for James to turn, he simply pulls up his pant leg and unbuckles it before tossing it aside. John throws his coat across James's desk and then ties his hair back. James can feel the eagerness that's pouring off of John in waves and it adds a bit of a bounce to his own step.

"We'll need to take a few minutes to orient ourselves to the motion of the ship, learn to move with it. If I thought we'd be landing anywhere for any amount of time, I'd have suggested waiting, but I know it will be weeks before we go ashore again."

They stand silently in the middle of the room, their hips loose, allowing their bodies to sway with each roll of the ship. Eventually James presses a sword into John's hand.

An hour later they've both lost their shirts, sweat is dripping from their hair and James has opened all the windows trying to bring in a breeze. They're both breathing heavy, John more so as maneuvering on the crutch takes double the energy, but he he hasn't waned, he's not beating James as of yet, but he's not lagged behind either. He gives as good as he get, advancing on James, causing him to retreat across the floor until he has to duck out of the way or run into the furniture.

James begins an advance and John spins, loses his balance and starts to wobble, he's close enough to the wall that he throws his weight backward to keep from hitting the ground all while grabbing at James's shirt. He pulls James forward, their bodies collide as John smashes into the wall. James can see John's breath leave him momentarily before he sucks in a gulp of air. James presses his free hand against the wall to remove his weight from John so that he can breath.

"Alright?"

John nods, still breathing heavy, his tongue flicks along his bottom lip and James can't help but stare at the wetness left behind. He tells his body to move back, out of the way of temptation but John does it again, this time running his tongue over his top lip making them both shiny. His eyes trail down to John's chest, wet with sweat and flushed from exertion, his nipples are dark in color and hardened into little peaks. James can't help but think about tasting them, catching them in his teeth and tugging. He wonders what John would sound like, if he'd be reserved in his pleasure or eager and loud and greedy. John's chest is moving quickly with his rapid breath and when James looks up the blue of John's eyes has gone dark, his mouth open and panting. They stare at one another, awareness pressing in, making the air between them thick. John's sword clatters to the ground, his hand going to James's sweat slicked side. The touch is electrifying, make James suck in a sharp breath, his vision narrowing. Want slithers through his veins, his blood running hot, his heart beating wildly in his chest. John blinks lazily and time slows down. John tips his head, his eye lids lowering. James isn't aware of actually moving, but he knows he does, knows he shuffles closer. He can taste John's breath, smell the sweat on his skin, see the rabbiting of John's pulse. James licks his lips, his tongue glancing off the wiry hair of a dark beard.

Billy bangs the door wide starling them both, making James jump away quickly. Billy's eyes move fast from one to the other, taking them in, understanding dawning in his gaze, "I'm sorry. I'll just be outside."

James lets his eyes close briefly before blowing out a low breath, "Another lesson tomorrow." Pulling his shirt over his head he exits his cabin as quickly as possible.

All their lessons thereafter take place with the door open.

 

* * *

 

They’re standing at the rail, spy glasses raised, “What do you think?”

John hums before lowering the glass, “She’s small, can’t be holding much.”

James looks over his shoulder and winks at John, “Sometimes the best prizes are held within small packages.”

John feels warmth suffuse him. And while James might not have meant the implication, John can’t help but take it that way. He puts the glass back to his eye to keep from drawing attention to his reaction. John still has difficulty sometimes wrapping his head around James’s easy acceptance of him. Every time James asks his opinion or takes his advice, the thrill that courses through him only strengthens his attraction. Their first official meeting had stirred John physically, but the subsequent working toward the same goal had stirred him mentally. From there John’s initial admiration had turned to infatuation fairly quickly. John had fought hard to suppress his jealousy when James had run off to see Miranda, and when John had figured that their goals were no longer aligned he’d felt betrayed and hurt. He’d lashed out the only way he’d known how, by stealing the gold right out from under James, by outwitting and out maneuvering him.

But the idea of losing James to the end of a rope had spurred him into action, into allowing himself to be maimed. He knows what it means, knows what he wants, but he’d locked that away until just recently. Revelations about James’s past lovers had reopened the want that John had done his best to tamp down on. Now as James jokes with him, John feels his stomach flutter, a small tendril of hope curling inside him. The sparring sessions, combined with James’s care of him these last several weeks during his fitful sleep in James’s cabin have only succeeded in cementing the idea that James may see him as something more than a friend. John doesn't want to push but the heat that flares between them any time they're alone is starting to make John a little crazy and quite desperate.

“We can definitely take her.” John murmurs.

James lowers his glass and pushes it back together, “Give the order.” They share a smile and John turns to the crew.

By the time they raise the black, the small schooner has no choice but to surrender. It’s a better haul than John had been anticipating. Enough food to keep the crew fed for weeks, and a decent coffer.

Later that night James ushers him into his cabin quickly, his coat bulging at one side. Once James has bolted the door he pulls a sack out from under his arm. Taking it to his desk he lays it’s contents on the smooth surface. Wine, dried meats, fruits, cheese, bread, and hand made chocolates litter the top of James’s desk.

“Where did those come from?” John feels his stomach rumble at the array of goods.

James rocks on his heels, his face split in two, eyes dancing, “Found a cubby hole in the Captain’s cabin.”

John feels himself grin before turning and swiping two glasses out of James’s bottom desk drawer. An hour later they’re both full of food and wine, two bottles still left to open, the chocolate being saved for later. The wine makes him bold, makes him reckless.

“There’s been no one since Thomas? At all?” John feels his cheeks color, he hopes to hide in the low light.

James spins the glass in his hand around, his gaze focused on the swirling liquid, “Other than Miranda, no.” He smiles bitterly to himself before looking up, his gaze pinning John, “And even that wasn’t what it should have been. In the beginning I had completely lost the drive. I was angry, resentful. I took all of that out on her. I blamed her for losing Thomas. Never completely understanding that _she_ had lost both of us.” With a sigh, he downs the rest of the liquid, “After, I’d never really felt the urge--”

James cuts himself off abruptly, his eyes nervously darting away from John, but John heard the _until_ James left hanging. John brings his own cup up to his mouth to cover the smile he feels playing at his lips. Wisely John decides not to push, instead faking a yawn before setting his cup down. Just as John goes to stand the ship pitches sharply, catching John off guard and pushing him off balance. James is up in a split second, his hands catching John before he sways too far to one side, keeping him upright.  

They’re close, not quite touching, but only centimeters apart, “Someone can’t hold their wine.” James jokes, his face hovering over John’s. Close enough that John can see the flush of alcohol on James’s skin, close enough that he can smell the remnants of the wine on James’s breath. John eyes watch his mouth, hunger building inside him, John wants to taste him, but even as he thinks it he can see the nervous tightening around James’s eyes, sees the slight tick in his jaw. John understands that now isn’t the time.

Stepping back casually, John says,, “I can hold my liquor just fine.” John hates the relief he sees bleeding into James’s posture. With a smile and a nod John passes James as he heads toward the window seat, “Good night, James.”

It takes John a long time to fall asleep.

***

When John steps through the door he's greeted by the sight of James standing in front of the mirror, knife in one hand, hair in the other. John moves forward into the room, closing the door behind him, “Wait.”

James turns, arms falling to his sides, a question in his eyes.

“Why do you want to cut it?”

“Easier than keeping up with it. Haven’t had time to wash it weeks.”

They watch each other across the room, the silence stretching between them. Neither of their gazes waver. It’s as if James is taking his measure for the millionth time. His eyes search John’s face. John takes one step closer, “I don’t have an argument as to why you should keep it, but I’d prefer if you did.” John shifts his weight, his eyes drop to the floor and then back to James’s face.

James continues to stare at him even as he reaches out to lay the knife on his desk. Several more silent seconds pass before James nods, “Alright.”

“I...I could wash it for you if--”John snaps his mouth shut. What the fuck is he thinking? He can feel the color stealing over his face and he’s ever grateful for the beard covering most of his cheeks. James cocks his head as if he’s truly considering John's offer, “Or I could just go.” John takes a single step backward and James comes to life.

“No.” It’s said forcefully enough that John freezes where he stands. Softer, James continues, “Stay. I’ll get some water.”

James bustles around the room, collecting the washing bowl, a pitcher of water from the barrel in the corner, a bar of soap hidden in his desk and a rather delicate looking comb that John is almost afraid to touch. By the time James is sat in a chair next to his desk, John’s nerves have settled and he’s convinced himself that this is completely normal and nothing to be overly excited about.

John douses James’s hair with water before taking up the soap and working up a lather in his hands. He starts at James’s crown, fingers combing through the auburn locks. James’s eyes fall closed with a sigh. It gives John the chance to stare openly at his captain. He’s completely taken with the soft gold of James’s eyelashes, long and thick where they lay against his cheek. He loves the meticulous way James cares for his beard and mustache. They’re always neatly trimmed and coiffed. It’s clear James uses an oil or salve to keep the hair conditioned, but it never appears greasy the way he’s seen some others. He loves the way the sunlight highlights the red when they’re on deck.

He spends long minutes combing his fingers from root to end, working through the knots he finds. Once his fingers slide freely through the strands, John digs into James’s scalp, working the lather deeper, massaging the sensitive skin. James’s face goes slack with a barely audible groan. His hands curl into fists where they rest on his thighs. John works his fingers in tight circles, rubbing and pressing over James’s entire skull, his own breath getting heavy as he watches James react. Goosebumps spread along James’s arms and John can see James’s nipples have gone hard, his shirt pulled tight over his chest, the nubs protruding, John’s mouth nearly waters thinking about getting his tongue on the tiny buds. James’s trousers are starting to tent, and he’s nearly panting, every hard press of John’s fingers gets a soft groan that makes John’s own cock throb.

Concentrating on the back of James’s head, John’s fingers slip over his neck and James gasps softly, his body shivering, his head falling forward. John rubs at the tight muscles, easing the knots under the soft skin. He finds a particularly hard spot requiring a firmer touch and James moans, his body jerking, his hands going flat on his legs, his fingers digging into the flesh of his thighs. At this point John is fairly certain that James is fully hard in his trousers, his hand inching its way toward the tented material until the base of his hand is pressed right up against his cock.

John’s fingers slow, his touch turning light, he grazes the side of James’s neck with this forefinger and James tilts his head with a hum. He can’t stop thinking about putting his mouth there, he rubs his thumb over the pulse point, feels the rapid beating of James’s heart, feels arousal pool in his groin. He knows for certain now that what’s between them isn’t one sided and John is almost desperate to take a chance. His stomach flips over as he starts to lean in only to be startled by a pounding on James’s door.

James jumps out of the chair, his hair still soapy, his eyes wild as they look from John to the door, “Would you.” James motions to the door and John sighs.

When John opens the door to stick his head out Dooley is staring at him apprehensively, “You’re needed above deck.”

“Can it wait?”

“No.”

“Fine, I’ll be right there.”

Closing the door and turning back to James John is disappointed to see that James has rinsed his hair and is now combing it back into a tail at the back of his head.

James nods at the door, “I’ll be right behind you.”

John takes it as the dismissal it's meant to be.

***

John runs the cloth along the back of his neck, the cool water helping bring down his body temperature. The days have been brutally hot, the sun blistering, and even at night there is little relief to be found. It’s been too many days since he’d bathed and knowing that James was occupied above deck had given him the perfect opportunity to use his cabin for a modicum of privacy. He’d stripped quickly, clothes left in a pile, a chair pulled close to the desk so that he could thoroughly wash the scar and his stump. He’s mostly done now, lingering as he enjoys the feeling of clean skin.

The door swings open, he jumps a bit before realizing it’s only James. He relaxes back against the chair, no care for his state of undress, ignoring the whisper in the back of his mind that tells him he wanted to be caught. He meets James’s eyes as he looks up, sees shock and then something else, something dark sweeps across James’s face, something feral behind his eyes. It makes goosebumps pop up on John’s arms, makes his cock twitch where it lays against his thigh.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you…” James trails off as his eyes skate down John’s naked body. He see James’s breath hitch and then quicken before his gaze snaps back to John’s face, his voice thicker than before, “I’ll go.”

John shakes his head, “I’m done. I just need to redress.” John feels a nervous flutter in his stomach, his muscles suddenly rubbery as he reaches for the peg. James’s eyes slide down his body once more, lingering on his cock and John can see hunger in James’s face. John doesn’t miss the way James licks his lips, his tongue swiping along his bottom lip. John straps on the peg, James’s eyes now trained on his fingers as he buckles it. He fits his legs into his trousers and then stands carefully before pulling them all the way up, over his hips, he tucks his cock in, James’s eyes not missing a single movement. John lowers his head as he buttons the plaket, watching James through hooded eyes.

James is breathing heavy, his mouth parted, eyes half lidded as he watches John affix his belt. John pretends not to see, tries to will his cock not to react to the want he can practically smell. John pulls his shirt over his shoulders, sees James’s fingers twitch where they’re hanging by his sides; wonders if James is thinking about touching him as badly as John wants to be touched. If he had an ounce of courage he’d end this now, he’d take what James is so very obviously wanting to give. But his fear of rejection keeps his lips sealed tight.

Once John is dressed, he makes to pick up the bowl of water.

“Leave it.” James’s voice is gruff, but not angry. John nods and makes his way across the room, toward the door. James stands in his way, his body blocking John’s path out. John stops in front of him, leaves little space between them, he sees James’s take a deep breath, his lashes fluttering. John had used the same soap from the week prior when James had let John wash his hair. He imagines the delicate lavender scent is having the same effect on James as it had on him.

John can’t help himself, can’t control his hand as he reaches for James. James must see the touch coming, moves back so that John’s fingers barely graze James’s shirt. James won’t meet his eyes, his jaw hard as he stares out the windows behind John’s shoulder. John sighs, and just walks around him to the door, leaving without a backward glance.

 

* * *

 

James finds John in his cabin, sitting on the edge of James’s bed, his hands folded in his lap, he speaks first, his head coming up as he does so, “The men think we’re fucking.” The small smile playing at the corner of John’s mouth makes him look younger and carefree in a way that James likes a little too much.

James tries not to look interested, “Why the fuck do they think that?”

John cocks his head, “They’ve noticed where I’ve been spending all my time.”

James searches his mind for a rebuff but finds nothing. John is correct. James has allowed him to stay, every night for over a fortnight now. Even during daylight hours they spend more time together than apart. He thinks about all of the things that have changed between them since John had knocked on his door seeking a reprieve to the nightmares. He can’t remember the last time John awoke thrashing and terrified.

While they’d already had the solid foundation of friendship between them, James had allowed the deeper, strong feelings he has for John to resurface. Despite his best efforts, his _want_ for John has been at the forefront. He has to wonder if the men had picked up on his more than friendly interest in their quartermaster. More than once now James had to renege on a promise his body had tried to make. He’d seen the disappointment in John, but there was nothing for it. James knows this cannot happen, _they_ cannot happen. It’s much too dangerous for both of them.

John stands, moves closer, his eyes searching James’s face, “Oblivious though we may be, we both know instinctively where this is leading.”

“This?” James swallows, John is much too close for comfort. He tries to step around John only to be blocked once again.

“I’ve spent every night this week in your bed.” John’s voice is low, intimate and it makes James shiver slightly.

“Sleeping.” James insists. James doesn’t need the verbal reminder, his body still hasn’t forgotten the feel of John pressed against his back this morning, his hard cock snug against James’s lower back. He’d feigned sleep until John had left the cabin. The second the door had closed James had taken his own cock in hand. He’d come fast and hard, gasping for air, John’s face and body splashed behind his closed eyes. It doesn’t help that James had gotten an eyeful of John’s bare body just a few days ago; beautifully sculpted muscle, flawless skin, thick cock hanging between lean thighs. It had taken everything in him not to drop to his knees and take John into his mouth right then and there.

John looks to the side, his jaw clenching, “Right.” It’s almost like James can see the way John’s resolve steels itself, when John turns back there is a light in his eyes that James hasn’t seen before. He takes another step forward and despite James’s command to his legs to move, he remains stock still, they’re close enough now that James can smell him, swears he can still smell the lavender mixed with salt spray, he can  feel the ghost of John’s breath on the slick skin of his neck as he speaks, “Tell me you don’t want me.”

James has to wet his suddenly dry mouth, tries to force the words to come but his throat seizes as he stares into John’s eyes. The blue is so deep, the color of the sky as a storm starts to roll in. James is frozen, caught by the want he sees staring back at him. The trail of John’s fingers over his side startles him, his body jerks. John’s tongue flicks out, wets his bottom lip and James’s eyes follow the movement, he feels himself sway, head dipping, nose brushing John’s cheek. He feels John’s damp, uneven breaths on his bottom lip, John’s own head tips up, soft brush of his mouth, James breaks, presses forward. The kiss is soft, so unlike any kiss he’s ever had, their lips just barely pressing together, their breath mingling. A small mewl meets James’s tongue as it swipes across the seam of John’s lips. They break apart slowly, just inches between them, barely enough to make proper eye contact. James doesn’t know what his face is showing, but John suddenly presses forward, his mouth seeking, his hands fisting in James’s shirt to pull him closer, there’s a half moan that James swallows as he seals their lips together. It turns passionate quickly, wet and deep, their tongues stroking over one another, hands roaming, trying to find a place to settle, the space between them disappearing until they’re pressed fully together, the heat of John’s body sears into him, raising his own temperature.

His fingers tunnel through John’s thick hair, the curls wrapping around his wrist as he sinks his hands deep, his palms cradling John’s head, turning him this way and that to deepen the kiss further. John’s own finger dig into his back, his nails sharp even through the fabric of his shirt. James press him back, back, until he hits the edge of the desk with a gasp. James runs his nose, followed by his tongue, across John’s cheek, down his throat, his teeth nipping gently at the skin behind John’s ear. John’s body goes lax, a deep moan reverberates around them as James sucks at John’s jugular. John shudders, his fingers scrabbling to reach under James’s shirt. James tugs John’s shirt from his pants and whips it over his head to toss it behind them. Pausing James stares at the solid expanse of John’s chest. He runs the backs of his fingers down the center of John’s sternum. He dips his head, his tongue running alone the bone of John’s clavicle. John shivers, his head falling back, neck bared, James can’t resist. He sets his teeth against he damp skin, his tongue following to soothe the stinging scrape. John’s right leg wraps around his waist, pulls James closer, their bodies connect, their cocks rub together as James bites down on John’s earlobe. John’s body jerks, a harsh hiss and then a dark guttural sound breaks between them as John rubs himself against James sinuously, his hips undulating, his arms thrown over James’s shoulders pulling him closer, holding James’s mouth to his throat. James can taste the desperation on John’s skin, hear it in the high, panting whines that John doesn’t even try to disguise. James gets a hand between them, rips at the fastening of John’s trousers, gets his hand on John’s cock and John shudders, a blurt of precome sliding across James’s fingertips as John lays back on the desk, his arms outstretched to the sides, his body twisting sensuously as his hips drive into James’s tight grip.

James dips his head once more, his tongue laving over the deep red head. John cries out, his fingers weaving through James’s hair, “Oh god please.” James pulls him deeper, the heavy weight of him stretching James’s mouth, making his lips numb as he bobs his head up and down, faster and faster, spit gathering at the corners of his lips, sliding out and down his chin. He’d forgotten how good this could be, he’d forgotten how his jaw would ache and the way his own cock pulses at the salty taste leaking from John’s cock head. He sucks hard along the shaft, John whimpers above him, his hips lifting over and over, his cock head pushing into the back of James’s throat. John starts to shake, his thighs trembling and jerking, his stomach quaking, “Yes, fuck, fuck...I’m coming.” His hips push up and in and then twist as thick bitter fluid slides down James’s throat. James hums around him and John keens, shudders hard once more before dropping back to the desk with a hard, choppy exhale.

James gives him no time to recover, he drops to his knees and pulls John to the edge of the desk. He hears John yelp just before James situates John’s legs over his shoulders and then he’s leaning in, spreading John open with his thumbs before licking across his hole. John yelps again, this time the sound grittier, deeper, like it was pulled from the very depths of his soul. The second swipe of James’s tongue makes John moan, wanton and loud. John’s hole is pretty and pink and James can’t wait to sink his cock to the hilt. He licks and sucks at John, his tongue pressing inside, the fluttering of John’s muscles making James work to get deeper. The dark, earthy taste of John bursts over his tongue and he can’t help but moan, shove in further still, scrape his teeth over John’s rim. John’s hands pull his head forward, his fingers fisted tight in James’s hair as he rides James’s face. When James looks up, John is already hard again, his cock lying against his thigh. There’s little doubt in James’s mind that he could make John come again just like this. He thinks about it briefly, but he’s desperate to feel John around him. Decides to save it for another time. Picks John up, with much grousing and lays him out on the bed before following him down.

Pulling back to slick his fingers he watches John watch him. John’s eyes are hazy, half lidded, skin glistening with a light layer of sweat. After pouring oil over several fingers he leans in and up, trials his tongue in a slow path up the middle of John’s chest, before darting across his nipples. Shuddering, John’s body pushes into James’s touch, his hand cupping the back of James’s neck as John silently asks for more. He grazes each bud with his teeth before licking across them with the flat of his tongue. John’s body pulses under him, each touch wringing another soft moan from John’s lips. When James finally wraps his teeth around one and tugs John cries out, back bowing, a softly whispered _please_ reaching James’s ears. James does as he’s asked; he bites at each one until they’re red and swollen, slick with his spit and John is panting helplessly, his eyes squeezed shut, his cock so hard it’s nearly purple. Blowing air across each one, he moves his hands back between John’s legs. With a softness James can’t remember being capable of, he rubs his thumb in slow circles over John’s hole, feels the muscles flutter under the gentle touch. John gasps, his mouth open, eyes rolled up in his head as his body starts and then pushes to meet James’s touch. He smoothes oil over and around the puckered skin, each touch making John shiver.

Sitting back on his heels he pulls John’s thighs over his own. He works the very tip of his thumb in, twists it left and then right, pushes in another inch, twists it again. He spends long minutes making the same precise movements, in, around, and then out. Over and over, he plays at John’s ass until John’s hips are lifting and pushing, his body opening nearly on it’s own. John reaches for him just as he pulls his thumb out, but James shushes him, pours more oil over two fingers. He rubs them over John’s entrance, John lifts into the touch, his body greedy for more. With his middle finger he finally breaches John’s body. John whimpers, body welcoming, hips rolling down. James works his finger around in circles, in and out, pulling at John’s rim, waits until John is loose and open before going in with two. John hums, face pulled tight with want, his hand reaching for James’s arm, holding his wrist in a tight grip as he rides James’s fingers hard, fucks himself ruthlessly, “Another, give me another.” Breathless plea that James can’t ignore. Slips a third finger inside John’s body, a quick drizzle of oil, and John groans, body twisting, hips canting down, seeking.

“James, please.” John’s body is restless, feverish as he works himself on James’s fingers. James is mesmerized by the wanton way John takes his pleasure, no inhibitions, no shame in how deeply he needs, _wants_ James. His head tosses against the bed, his mouth open and panting as his hips roll down, undulating, working James’s fingers all around inside him. James can’t wait a second longer to feel him.

With shaking hands James lines himself up, his cock head sliding against John’s hole until he finally slips in causing them to moan in unison. John’s fingers clutch at his biceps, his legs instantly coming around James’s waist to pull him forward. He sees John shiver, another low moan as James sinks deeper. John tosses his head back, mouth open on a low panting groan, “So good.”

James licks across John’s neck, the first short pull out and hard press back in has John pushing up to meet him with a soft hum of pleasure. James starts a slow rolling rhythm that sends a hot tingle down his own spine. John’s body is so tight, he’s desperate to put his head down and fuck, fast and hard, to get them both off as quickly as possible, to ease the desperate ache inside his own body. But James wants more than that, he wants more than just the physical. He wants the connection they’ve built, can barely wait for it to flare to life, bright and sharp, to consume them until nothing matters but this, until nothing matters but the feeling of skin on skin and the taste of each other shared between them. James can recognize, even if he won’t quite admit it yet, that he’s already so far gone for the man under him. James presses forward, slides deeper and the groan he gets from John makes him shiver, the sound is dark and desperate. James hooks his hands under John’s shoulders, pulls him down into each hard drive of his hips. John’s hands slide down his back, grip his ass, his fingers digging into the flesh as he pulls James’s harder against him, his thighs are tight around James’s sides as he lifts himself into each rolling thrust.

Rearing back James holds John’s legs aloft and open in a tight grip, his hips pistoning fast, the sound of their bodies coming together almost as loud as their panting breath. John’s hands slide over James’s stomach, his chest, plucking at his nipples briefly. James’s hips jerk as he moans at the hot sting of pain that radiates out from his chest and into his fingertips. John does it again, and again alternating between the two until James is gritting his teeth, forcing his orgasm back, even as his cock pulses and swells, the feeling is exquisite in its torture. Eventually John eases up, buries one hand in the back of James’s hair, the other wrapping tight around his own cock, his fist moving fast and precise. James can see the tension in his muscles, feels the slight quaking of his limbs, knows John is close now.

“Fuck, James.” His name is gritted out between John’s clenched teeth, his lips pulled up in a near snarl as John’s hand squeezes around the back of his neck, his fingers tangled in the short hairs, it stings, but it grounds him, allows him to see the very second that John’s pleasure overrides everything else. Allows him to see the way John’s brow pulls down, his eyes squeezing shut tightly, the near grimace looking so much like pain it’s almost startling as his back arches. A shudder starts at his shoulders and works it way down his body as he gasps, his mouth opening around a panting whisper of James’s name, his face soothing and then going slack as he jerks in James’s arms. John’s body clenches down on him, his fingers squeezing and stroking at his cock head, as James sees the jets of come land on John’s chest and abdomen. A flush starts at his cheeks spreads all the way down his chest, his breathing is erratic, his stomach quivering as aftershocks rocket through him. His body locks down on James’s cock, his ass as tight as a vice, it steals James’s movement, his breath, his sanity.

James’s watches John’s cock twitch where it lies against his pelvic bone, thinks about the way John had felt on his tongue, the thick, salty taste of him sliding down James’s throat and its as if John can read his mind. He lifts his hand, his fingertips slide against James’s bottom lip and James’s mouth opens instantly, his tongue sweeping along the skin, collecting the taste of John. He moans his approval, his eyes slipping closed as he sucks the come off John’s hand. A single sharp pinch to his nipple is all it takes to throw him over the edge, his body shuddering as stars burst behind his eyelids, his cock pulsing hard inside John’s body, hips grinding in tiny circles as he rides it out, breath stuttering, heart galloping in his chest and echoing in his ears. He lets himself settle against John, his hips still moving minutely, as he hums against John’s neck. He rubs their bodies together, the hair on his chest catching against John’s smooth skin. John’s legs wrap around his waist, hold him in place as he presses himself closer.

Carefully James pulls himself free of John’s body. John hums and James asks, “Sore?”

“Mmm, a bit. Not bad.”

James says nothing, just slithers down John’s body, John’s eyes go wide as James’s fingers slides into him easily. James lifts John’s legs over his shoulders once again as he pulls his finger free.

“James, what are...you can’t...oh, fuck, fuck that’s so good.” John’s whole body shivers, his voice is strained, as his head flops back to the bed, his fingers reaching for James’s head as James licks into him, his tongue slides in easy. John is open and relaxed, so wet from James’s come inside him. He swallows the taste of them together as John keens above him. He presses himself closer, rubs himself against James’s face as James sucks at his hole. He reaches up, takes John’s cock in his hand and starts to stroke. John tries to pull his hips aways, his body twitching, “I can’t, I can’t. James, please.”

James doesn’t give up, strokes him slowly, his tongue working non stop in John’s ass until finally John is arching into the touch, he rubs his thumb steadily under the head, up and around stimulating the bundle of nerves there. Flicking his eyes up he can see John, his head turned to the side, his mouth open with short rasping breaths. He rolls John’s sac in other hand, his fingers caressing and then tugging slightly. John thrashes, his head pressing back, his throat bared, hands fisted in the bedding, “Don’t fucking stop.”

Shoving in further with his tongue James strokes John’s cock the same way he’d seen John do it, fast and tight, fingers pressed hard against the head. John’s whole body quivers and then locks tight, his breath seizing, eyes wide and staring at the ceiling, his cock pulsing and twitching in James’s hand, nothing but a few drops left to dribble out the slit. John melts into the bed with a huge gulp of air, his limbs limp, fingers twitching. James gets to his knees, the hand he’d just had wrapped around John taking up his own cock. He watches the way John’s body shifts softly, stretching sensually as he comes back to himself. John opens his eyes and they’re hazy, sated but he sits up quickly, slaps James’s hand away from his cock and pulls James forward.

Stacking the pillows behind his head, he brings James close until the head of his cock is even with his mouth. With a wicked smile he licks across James’s cock head. James shudders, his hand slapping against the wall to keep himself up right as John swallows him down. John’s mouth is hot and wet and _so fucking good_. James moans as John sucks at the head, his tongue swirling, the tip flicking at the slit, probing, coaxing forth precome. James cups the back of John’s head, and thrusts gently. John moans, opens his mouth wider, his tongue rubbing against the underside, the insinuation clear, _use me._

Wrapping his hands around John’s head James fucks in, his cock pushing to the back of John’s throat, his gag reflex engaging, the sound is obscene, but John doesn't even try to back him off, just pulls him closer and it pushes James’s arousal higher, he feels himself get harder, he’s already leaking, already so close to the edge again. Can’t take his eyes off of John’s mouth, can’t look away from John’s swollen and spit slicked lips, sees a small thin trail of saliva winding down through John’s beard and James’s hips jerk hard, his cock thickening further. He touches his thumb to the corner of John’s mouth, John’s eyes flutter closed, his face blissed out as James fucks in and in and in.

He shoves in roughly, his cock bouncing off the back of John’s throat, John moans around him and the vibration travels up James’s spine, sets his brain on fire. He full body shudders as he feels the soft glide of John’s finger over his hole, cries out when John pushes in with the dry tip, the sting of it wrings James’s orgasm from him with blinding force. His fingers dig into John’s head, his hips grind, cock sliding further into John’s throat, cutting off his air for brief seconds before James starts to come and he pulls back far enough so that John can swallow without difficulty. James pants at the ceiling, body shaking uncontrollably. His fingers are numb and his vision gray and wavering, breath stuck in his throat, choking out half broken moans. John eventually pulls off his cock, his tongue stroking the head softly until James has to move away, too sensitive to let it continue.

He flops down next to John, pulls him down until they’re eye to eye. The knowing, self satisfied smirk he loves and hates in equal measure firmly in place across John’s face. John ghosts his fingers over James’s eyebrows, his thumb brushing James’s bottom lip before he tips his head forward, their mouths meeting. The kiss is slow, deeping one small measure at a time. Just the press of lips at first, and then the single swipe of a tongue, the tips finally touching, until James’s hand slides to the back of John’s head, angles him so that he can lick fully into John’s mouth. It’s deep and wanting, but there’s no urgency, and it ends the same way it began, gently, reverently.

They spend the day below deck, finishing off the chocolate and wine. Hours later when James slicks John’s cock and climbs astride him, he locks away the picture of John’s awed face for a rainy day.


End file.
